


Burn

by panda_shi



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambitious But Rubbish, Anal Sex, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Established Relationship, I Don't Even Know, Jutsu, M/M, Misusing Mokuton, Mokuton, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Post-Naruto Time Skip | Naruto Shippuden, Sex, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:34:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27914599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panda_shi/pseuds/panda_shi
Summary: Tenzou comes home to try on a suit for his upcoming mission. Iruka really, really likes what he sees.
Relationships: Umino Iruka/Yamato | Tenzou
Comments: 7
Kudos: 57





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NKI_Stories](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NKI_Stories/gifts).



> Self beta'd.
> 
> Inspired by Nina's artwork of Tenzou in glasses which [you view here.](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/765006789611094027/784625227278975056/AlterTenz.png) And because of that, this fic is dedicated to Nina. YOUR FAULT! BE PROUD OF YOURSELF YOU FABULOUS PERSON!

Iruka had not been paying much attention to Tenzou when he had stepped out of his shower, robe loosely secured and patting his hair dry. Not beyond their cursory welcome back home kiss that he pecks on Tenzou’s jaw line, anyway. Tenzou had looked preoccupied, distracted, the slope of his eyebrows pulled downwards as he unpacked a toiletry kit and a suit carrier. Iruka had left him to it, seating himself by the dresser, running a hair brush through his hair, humming under his breath, moisturizing the ends with a warmed oil between his palms. It isn’t until he hears Tenzou’s sigh, almost slightly put upon that Iruka raises his gaze up to the mirror.

Only to catch a glimpse of Tenzou out of uniform and tugging on a pair of black, tailored slacks.

What follows is this:

Tenzou tugs on a dark gray round neck t-shirt, something that draws attention to the flex of his arms, the biceps and triceps bulging when he moves. Tenzou slips into a pair of dress shoes, tapping the heel a few times on the rug, as if testing its sturdiness, how confined his feet truly are, if they are to set him off balance. Tenzou stands on his tip toes, making a pleased hum when the leather flexes with his movement, his chin tipping in a nod to himself as if quietly saying, this will do. Tenzou then takes the suit jacket out of its hanger, holding it out under the light of corner floor lamp lit bedroom, head tilting to one side as he examines it. His hands slides into its interior pockets, likely checking for how much additional weaponry he can carry when his entire body is a deadly weapon, anyway. Tenzou wouldn’t need more than just a few explosive tags at a time, but still felt that he should carry a short blade. Iruka knows this because Tenzou has told him earlier on in their relationship. Tenzou slips into the jacket, tugging on the lapels and reaching up with his arms above his head, as high as it can go. He then holds his arms behind his back, lifting it to under his shoulder blades, then to sides. He twists, then lifts one knee after the other, checking his full range of motion before standing still, tugging at the sleeves with his fingers.

Tenzou opens a small canister of what looks like pomade, something that makes him frown as he dips his fingers into it and slicks his hair back with it, using the full length mirror on their closet. The frown on his face is evident now, just leaning towards a whisper of unamused as he sculpts his hair to something more business like. Tenzou uses his fingers to comb his hair to the right, decides against it and tries on the left. Neither side seems to work before he huffs a short, sharp exhale through his nose and settles for the original slicked back look, the shorter strands of his tapered crew cut slipping from the pomade’s hold, falling over his forehead. Iruka watches, with a breath that catches in his throat as Tenzou takes out a disposable ear piercing kit, where he fluidly pierces his right ear and slips on what looks like silver hoop through his earlobe. A flash of green chakra takes care of the pierced skin and Tenzou is tossing the piercing kit into the trash.

Tenzou slips on a pair of thick, black framed glasses and then proceeds to stare at himself in the mirror, lips set into a thin line.

“Please tell me I don’t look too over dressed for a body guard for a rich client,” Tenzou says, turning to face Iruka.

Looking through the mirror doesn’t do Tenzou justice.

Iruka turns his full body to face Tenzou, his gaze raking over the sharp lines of Tenzou’s suit in a slow, heated stroke, his own breath coming out measured, forcibly calm, the heat that had been gradually pooling in Iruka’s stomach where he had stopped brushing his hair in favor of watching his test out his new cover.

Iruka’s throat is dry, the heat in his veins turning to a _roar_ at the sight Tenzou makes, his breath catching in his throat.

Tenzou’s eyebrows arch at Iruka’s stunned silence, at Iruka’s parted lips. Iruka watches as the corners of Tenzou’s lips quirk to what looks like bemusement, as the flush on Iruka’s cheeks starts to crawl past the slope of his neck and the hollow of his throat, spilling over his exposed chest from the lazily tied knot of his cotton robe. Tenzou’s eyes are dark in the not as bright bedroom, an added gleam to its depth that probably has something to do with the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Iruka doesn’t think he’s over dressed by definition of ‘rich client’ per se. Iruka thinks he’d fit just fine in a room full of rich businessmen. The finish of the suit gives off sheen; the person responsible for providing props for Tenzou’s cover didn’t cut corners. Tenzou looks like he belongs to the elite. He is, in Iruka’s opinion, catastrophically handsome, dark eyes framed by thick lashes, his cheekbones distinct and his jaw angular.

Iruka has never seen Tenzou dress like this. He didn’t think it had been remotely possible for his lover to look even more devilishly handsome than he did at that very moment.

“No,” Iruka says, his voice soft as he stands up from the dresser’s bench, feet padding across the wooden floor and towards the woolen carpet by their bed, toes curling as he carefully reaches up and adjusts the lapel of Tenzou’s jacket. “I think you’ll fit in just fine.”

“It’s more of a peacock show rather than anything. I do feel this is a little bit of an overkill,” Tenzou sighs, chin dipping as he smooths a hand over the suit jacket pocket.

Iruka bites his lower lip, watching Tenzou’s eyelids move with each blink under the lens of his glasses, his breath once more stolen as he looks up at his wonderful lover, the sudden swell heat now blooming to a full on arousal that leaves Iruka’s knees weak. Gods, Tenzou would look fantastic on a backdrop of a corporate meeting room, standing there on guard behind his demanding client, face pressed to a thin line, hands at parade rest behind his back, feet ready to surge forward if required. He would look good walking beside a rich client, perhaps drawing more attention to the width of his chest and the confidence of his steps, his suit flowing over his body, perfect with the way it’s tailored to fit him. Iruka thinks that Tenzou slapping his hands into seals as he drops down to a crouch would look good too, because the fabric under Iruka’s hands feels different. It isn’t natural even though it looks like an expensive silk-wool weave. It’s tactical, one that will yield and move with Tenzou should he break out into a fight.

Iruka knows he shouldn’t be aroused at the idea of Tenzou strapping on a holster by his calves. He knows he shouldn’t find the visual of Tenzou swinging a short blade dressed in a suit, eyes obscured by the reflection of the lens, incredibly stimulating either.

People would stare at Tenzou, unknown men and women. They’d look at him now the way Iruka is looking at him now, smooth their fingers, maybe, over the lapel of his jacket, press palms over the rock hard planes of his abdomen. Iruka’s fingers spread out with a tremble, as he sucks in a deep breath and feels just a pinch of irritation at anyone who’d dare touch his lover like this. To have their hand press on the warmth of his stomach, to trail it up to his chest where Iruka brushes the back of his fingers over the slight wrinkle on the t-shirt fabric.

It’s not fair.

Why would they get to enjoy his lover looking like this where he can’t? When there’s nothing Iruka wants more than to slowly sink himself to the ground, take his sweet time in unzipping Tenzou’s pants to untuck his flaccid cock. When he wants nothing more than run the length of his tongue over that weight of his flesh, take it into his mouth and feel it swell to full mast in his throat. When he wants to Tenzou fuck his mouth uncontrollably, dressed in a sharp suit, use his mouth for his pleasure, for his release and deny Iruka everything.

Iruka wants to serve him.

Wants to be used by him.

Wants to be fucked on all fours like he’s a rich man’s plaything, for Tenzou’s palm to come down on the globe of his ass obscenely, still dressed, unbothered because why should he? When he’s of the elite and Iruka is merely dressed in a thin, cotton robe.

Iruka closes his eyes, swallowing the visual down, his cock twitching under his robe.

“People are going to look at you,” Iruka whispers, his voice as thick as gravel. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

Iruka looks up and finds Tenzou’s bemusement increasing tenfold, his eyebrow quirking higher. “Are you enjoying what you’re seeing, Iruka-sensei?”

Iruka hums softly, flicking his gaze up, his hands coming to rest on Tenzou’s shoulders. “When do you leave?”

“Three days,” Tenzou confirms, his hands coming to rest lazily over Iruka’s sides, fingers squeezing gently as he sucks in a slow, measured inhale.

“That seems like plenty. You usually get your equipment or props within twenty-four hours,” Iruka points out, chewing his lower lip as his cock twitches under his robes again, needy and hard, precum staining the cotton fabric and rendering a small patch transparent.

“This is the first time I’m using this kind of cover. I requested for this to be given to me earlier,” Tenzou clarifies, just as his gaze drops down to Iruka’s hip, right at the swell of his arousal brushing over Iruka’s lower abdomen, the lopsided smirk stretching to an outright devilish grin, his teeth peeking out from between his lips as he ducks his head and peers up at Iruka. “A ryo for your thoughts, Iruka-sensei?”

“Just because you’re dressed like the rich, doesn’t give you the entitlement to my thoughts,” Iruka tartly responds.

“Is that so?” Tenzou asks, tilting his head to the side, taking a step away from Iruka, and another and then another, dropping himself on the lounge chair in the corner of the bedroom, purposely slouching on the seat and crossing his legs at the knees, elbows resting on the arm rest as he brings his hands together. “And here I was hoping you’d be less touchy this evening, when I’m being nice and offering you the choice to dictate how our evening should go. I do have three days. Seeing as how you’re enjoying yourself, I was going to let you continue. But I guess I shouldn’t ruin my suit with your filth.”

Iruka’s back straightens at the words, at how they slap red hot on his skin, robbing his lungs of air. His knees tremble involuntarily, his throat going dry for the umpteenth time, leaving his entire mouth parched as he swallows and works around his tongue for saliva to moisten the desert dryness. He fails, and flushes with embarrassment instead, a brush of mild humiliation painting his neck scarlet, the tips of his ears crimson, his fingers subconsciously tugging his robe tighter around himself, hoping that the folds and sash would hide how Tenzou’s words had boosted his arousal even more. Iruka is distinctly aware of his precum smearing more on his robe, the wet patches of fabric cool against the heated skin of his thighs.

“You shouldn’t ruin or wrinkle your suit, yes,” Iruka agrees. Of course he agrees. Even if they had plenty of time to ask for express dry cleaning service, why ruin the suit at all to require that kind of service to begin with. “I can’t help it. You do look good.”

Tenzou says nothing. He does nothing, his lips set to a thin neutral line that betrays nothing. Except for his eyes. Iruka watches as Tenzou’s focus seems to undress him, like invisible hands pushing the neckline of his robe back and off the curves of his shoulder, sliding down the length of Iruka’s arms and exposing his skin to the cool air of their bedroom. Iruka shudders under the quiet, laser focused stare, one hand coming up to rub at his arm, warding away the sudden spread of goosebumps that spreads down his arms, the length of his back and the back of his legs.

Tenzou still says nothing as he puts his hands together and with controlled chakra fashions a small wooden phallus, curved just so at the tip and wide enough at the bottom to remain upright on the floor. He waves the tip over, quietly asking Iruka to approach him. Iruka whose eyes are wide, his mind connecting the dots as he helplessly approaches Tenzou who holds out the makeshift, smooth wooden dildo out with a hand.

“Fuck yourself,” Tenzou says, quiet, commanding, his eyes dropping down to the ground in silent instruction before he raises it back up to Iruka. Iruka flushes, indignation, his lips parting to protest, just because of the tone, the audacity of the demand. But Tenzou cuts him off. “You’re already making a mess of yourself. Show me how good you are and _maybe_ I’ll let you kneel a little closer.”

Kneel a little closer, Tenzou says. Not kneel before him, not I’ll allow you touch, but to be allowed permission to be a little closer.

Iruka licks his lips and carefully approaches Tenzou, taking the wooden dildo off his hand like it’s a weight too much for his wrist and holding it in both of his. It’s not too big, nowhere near the length and girth of Tenzou’s cock. Tenzou had purposely kept it limited in size to put a cap on Iruka’s pleasure. Iruka will have to figure out how to ride it on the floor, would have to negotiate the angle of his hips and movement of his downward thrusts if he is to even get off by the rather small, offending toy.

“Are we waiting for new years?” Tenzou asks, his tone just shy of mocking, his eyebrow quirked with sarcasm.

Iruka throws Tenzou his unimpressed glare, the weight of the toy in his hand heavy as he sucks in a deep breath, excitement and arousal fusing together in his lower abdomen, the roar of his arousal making his heart thunder his ribs. Iruka tentatively turns to his side of the dresser, taking out the tube of lube. He finds a comfortable spot on the ground, a few feet away from Tenzou where he lowers himself down to his knees. With his heart pulsating in his throat, Iruka proceeds to coat the dildo generously with lube, biting on his lower lip as he flicks his gaze up at Tenzou, who remains unmoving on his seat, legs still crossed, his fingers laced together in a show of calm observation.

Tenzou is a sight to behold, his quiet focus making the insides of Iruka’s stomach swoop inwards as he carefully seats himself on his ass, and parts his legs, the flush on his cheeks deepening as the feeling of being a cheap whore twists in his stomach. The robe parts easily, exposing his arousal to the cool air, bobbing high and heavy, glistening with precum as he shudders at the cool temperature, his skin awash with an fevered arousal that makes his inner thighs tremble. Iruka keeps his gaze on Tenzou, who tilts his head to the side, nothing but a gesture of casual observance when Iruka starts to rub the tip of the wooden dildo against his entrance, warming cold lube against his entrance, spreading it between the globes of his ass and perineum.

Impatient and wanting to knock that neutral expression off Tenzou’s face, Iruka pushes the dildo forward, one side of his face scrunching up in a wince, gritting his teeth and hissing through it, as he rides through the abrupt and slow breach of the cold, slick toy. Iruka’s knees clamp together, as if the gesture would prevent further intrusion but his hand pushes forward, slowly, taking his time, willing his body to relax, his throat swallowing past the desert and he breathes heavily through his nose, humming through the sudden push of the thick, curved wooden head.

The initial breath leaves Iruka panting, his ass suddenly stretched a little too quick, too fast, too rough with the persistent and impatient push of his own fingers.

Tenzou smirks, a soft snort leaving him through the nose. Like he’s amused. Like he finds what Iruka is doing entertaining. Funny, even.

Shame washes over Iruka, painting his chest a dark flush as his ass clenches down, a keening noise pushing past his throat as he pushes the dildo all the way in, all the way to the hilt, leaving him breathless and panting, the _burn_ making his thighs tremble, his knees shake, a quake going down his spine as he slumps a little on his side, panting, jaw slack, his ass spasming against the foreign object he had so impatiently wedged into himself.

Tenzou is looking at him like one would to a dog doing tricks, looking down at him, the gleam of the lens making him look a little sinister. Tenzou props his chin on a palm, his elbow resting on the cushion surface of the arm chair, like he’s bored. He even goes as far as glancing at the wall clock on the far end of the wall.

“Are you in a hurry?” Iruka asks a little hotly, the flush making his ears _burn_ , his hands pushing himself up from the floor, his entire weight on one side of his hip. He keeps a firm hold of the dildo, willing his body to remain relaxed because it’s resisting. His body wants the foreign object out, when he doesn’t want it out, when he wants it stay where it is, relishing the burn of being filled so suddenly, when it should be Tenzou’s cock in him and not this cold, lifeless toy.

Tenzou doesn’t answer. He lifts a shoulder in a casual shrug. “It would seem you are though,” he glibly points out, lips pulling back, teeth peeking out in a lopsided smirk that makes Iruka’s stomach drop and swoop inwards, butterflies fluttering in his abdomen. “Tell me, Iruka-sensei, how does it feel?”

“You wish it was your cock in me now,” Iruka responds, with all the heated annoyance and impatience he can manage to spill from his pertinent mouth. He adjusts himself carefully, keeping a firm hold of the dildo, as he moves to kneel in position, one hand coming to rest behind him for support, opening himself up obscenely to Tenzou. Like this, his knees and legs are spread wide to an almost split, his weight fully resting on the dildo that stands firmly on hits base on the ground. The sudden pull of gravity leaves Iruka shivering, his elbows shaking because there, right there, as he inches just the barest bit forward and right there, just right there, Iruka _shudders_. “ _A-Ahh_ \--!”

Iruka trembles, his cock bobbing and now dark with blood, rudy tipped, precum pooling over his abdomen, collecting at his navel and trickling down his stomach. Iruka takes a moment to catch his breath, at having something cold and hard pushing against his prostate.

“I think, the correct statement, Iruka, is that _you_ wish you had something in you,” Tenzou corrects.

Iruka barely has a moment to register when he feels the dildo _move_ , ever so slowly, being pulled outwards and leaving him to lean backwards on his palms, the movement making him arch his neck to the ceiling, teeth gritting as the dildo pops free out of him, squelching lewdly, loudly, leaving him slack jawed and suddenly so, so empty.

“What—“ Iruka looks up, and finds that Tenzou has extended his hand, mokuton melting from his palm twisting to the floor, his legs still crossed like Iruka’s form doesn’t at all bother him. The curl of wood starts of thick, thinning out and connecting to the dildo on the floor, something he holds up and dangles infront of Iruka, like it’s temptation. Like it’s something he needs. Iruka’s _shakes_ with anticipation, licking his lips as possibilities start to turn in his head. The things Tenzou can do to him if he wishes. The things Tenzou _would_ do if Iruka provokes him hard enough. Oh gods. “ _Tenzou_ …”

“I did ask nicely earlier,” Tenzou points out, shrugging a little bit. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Iruka. Then maybe I’ll let you have it back.” Tenzou pauses and then adds, “for a little bit.”

Iruka opens his mouth and shuts it again, wanting to obey. Wanting to give Tenzou whatever he asks for, his eyes sliding over to the glistening dildo that he wants in him again. Because having it in him is better than having nothing in him.

“Just how good you looked,” Iruka answers softly, the words but a brush of breath as chews on his lower lip, reaching forward with his fingers and carefully slipping a digit in. It’s too small, too thin, barely even a stretch compared to thick dildo earlier. It doesn’t stop Iruka from adding a second finger, _moaning_ as he fingers himself, quickly followed by a third.

Iruka doesn’t get any warning when his hand is suddenly _yanked_ back with a sharp force, when he is suddenly elevated and propped up in a makeshift coil of a wooden wines, twisting almost grotesquely, forcing his hands behind his back, making Iruka arch his hips as he _cries_ out, biting down on the noise sharply. Iruka is forced to lean backwards, mokuton holding his wrists prisoner behind his back, glued firmly to their bedroom floor boards, leaving Iruka there just his legs wide open and gree.

“You were saying?” Tenzou asks, calm, not a tremor in his voice, his chin still propped on his wrist.

Iruka’s locked jaw _hurts_ as he dips his head forward, every part of him telling him to succumb, to just blurt out the wordy fantasy he has swirling in his mind that formed from the moment Tenzou had slipped on his glasses and adjusted the sleeves of his suit jacket.

“I was saying that people will look at you,” Iruka exhales, sucking in a lungful of breath before he exhales again. Slower this time, trying to calm himself, get some clarity. If Tenzou wants to dirty talk, then he’s going to give him what he wants and see who is the more impatient one. “And I’m not sure I’d like that. People looking at you, that is.”

“Why would that bother you? When you know I’m yours,” Tenzou points out, leaning his cheek further into his palm, an outright demonstration of utter boredom. “Do you doubt my loyalty? Is that it?”

“N-No!” Iruka says quickly, looking up at Tenzou, mildly alarmed. “T-That’s not it at all.”

“Then explain it to me, Iruka. I’m not a mind-reader,” Tenzou leans back in his chair, sighing, his hand that remains extended and fused with mokuton resting idly on the arm rest, almost limp. Tenzou doesn’t need to keep holding mokuton’s form once its solid, after all.

“I just…” Iruka shuts his mouth, feeling vulnerably all of a sudden. His knees trembles as he tells himself that no, he’s not going to retract back. He’s not going to close his legs when he wants nothing more than for Tenzou to stand, keep looking down at him and unzip his pants to take his cock out. “I do not appreciate the thought of people looking at you, watching you, staring at your body that looks – it looks incredibly good in that suit. You look so, _so_ good.”

“That’s high praise, thank you,” Tenzou reaches up with his hand, rubbing the back of his head, a show of boyish charm, peppered with a bit of shyness and embarrassment. If it hadn’t been for the salient gleam in his eyes. Iruka would have bought into it hook, line and sinker if he didn’t know where to look, if he didn’t know how to _read_ Tenzou. Tenzou’s eyes are as sharp as the edge of a blade, its focus not at all faltering for a second. “Is that why you’re so bothered? Because I look good.”

“You can say that,” Iruka admits, biting his lower lip and tipping his chin up. “I can’t look at you like this and not want to get on my knees.” The words come out in a soft breath, a whisper, like it’s a secret meant for just the two of them. “I can’t look at you like this and not wish for you to bend me over, push your thick cock in me, fuck me like I’m something you bought from the corner street. I think you know what you look like, you know what you’re doing and all this is just a boost to your ego, when I know you’d rather be in me right now. But you’re still talking, so…”

Iruka thinks he’s pushed Tenzou’s buttons when Tenzou _blinks_ , when the barest hint of a twitch tugs at his pinky finger. Iruka watches with a bit of victory as Tenzou’s jaw _locks_ for just a second, one brief, tiny second before he dips his head and chuckles.

“Is that what you think?” Tenzou looks up at Iruka from over his frame of his glasses, both eyebrows going up to his hairline like he finds the joke funny. “That I can’t control myself?”

“You know I’m right,” Iruka grins, roguish, cheeky, chewing on his lower lip in an attempt to suppress his amusement.

“Are you?” Tenzou asks, leaning further back in to the chair, kicking his feet a little bit in a show of pondering his thoughts. “I think you’re wrong. I think you got it into your head that I’d bend over for you. That I’d accommodate your whims just _because_ you happen to have them. That I function to serve you, when in fact, you are the one who _wants_ to get on your knees. You are the one who wants to open your mouth for me, take my cock in your throat. You are the one want to want to feel it all the way to the back of your throat, for me to fuck your face, my hand in your hair, like you are, indeed, nothing more than a cheap corner street _whore_. You are the one who _wishes_ that I’d pull you over, let that thing you call clothing hang off you like rags, fuck you while I hold your face in my hand. You’d like that wouldn’t you? Your ass out, your wrists bound, my finger in your mouth? You’d _enjoy_ and relish being used by cock, being reduced to nothing more than a pretty face, a nice, warm, body, having no say and gagging. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Iruka.”

It’s not a question.

It’s a statement.

And it leaves Iruka shivering as the words leave invisible welts on his skin, as they burn and sear their marks on his flesh, as he looks at Tenzou who delivers the words without looking like he’s bothered at all, like he’s got all the time in the world, like he can do this all damn day.

Iruka didn’t expect this.

He didn’t expect such lewd, visceral images to flood him, as he imagines Tenzou holding him up, spread with Iruka’s leg hooked on his arm, his face turned and held prisoner in Tenzou’s other palm, as Tenzou pounds into his body with abandon. They’d be noisy, their flesh slapping, hotly, lewdly, cock squelching as it slicks in and out of Iruka’s ass – _oh gods_ , Tenzou’s fingers on his face would leave marks. They’d darken with the days that go buy, _burn_ and be tender for sure.

Iruka’s stomach clenches, as he exhales and shakes at the image, _moaning_ deep in his throat.

Iruka says nothing. Biting his lower lip, a sudden swell of copper flooding his tongue as he turns his head away, tucking his burning face behind the fall of his loose hair.

It’s then that he hears the clack of Tenzou’s dress shoes, muffled by the carpet when Tenzou’s hand _grabs_ Iruka by the chin, firm, harsh, almost uncaring and not at all gentle, forcing Iruka to look up from where he is on the floor, jerking his chin up.

“Who said you can look away? I’m still talking,” Tenzou points out.

Everything in Iruka spins into a halt, his entire body seizing up and going rigidly still, his eyes widening as he meets Tenzou’s dark gaze and swallows. He tries to nod, but finds that he can’t, not with how Tenzou is holding his chin. An ache goes through Iruka, radiating down from his jaw and all the way down his collarbone, tugging at his shoulders. The angle isn’t comfortable. It’s straining and anymore and Iruka knows the ache won’t leave him for a while.

Tenzou releases his hold, shaking his head and pushing his glasses up with a finger, a gesture that makes Iruka’s breath hitch because oh gods, how is it possible for anyone to make a gesture like adjusting one’s glasses look so incredibly attractive without even trying?  
  
“Still going to be an impatient little shit?” Tenzou prompts, tilting his head to one side.

Iruka shakes his head, a little sharply. No. No, he doesn’t plan on being an impatient little shit. He wants this. Whatever this is. Whatever Tenzou deems necessary, for however long.

“We’ll see,” Tenzou says, moving to sit himself on the chair, Iruka following him with his gaze, at the bulge that remains confined and strained behind the fabric of Tenzou’s slacks.

Iruka is given little to no warning when Tenzou raises his hand just _so_ , just enough for the dildo to get Iruka’s attention before it moves, on its own, positioning itself right there by Iruka’s entrance and ever so agonizingly slowly, begins to push in.

Iruka’s fingers grasp and fist at carpet fibers, as his ass is stretched once more, the lubricant cold, the dildo even colder, as it pushes forward and all the way in until it seats fully sheathed in Iruka’s body. Iruka pants, a keening noise leaving his throat, as he stares wildly at Tenzou, not _daring_ to tear his gaze off him, not wanting to be scolded at all, not wanting to disappoint Tenzou at all.

The dildo moves, turning a little bit to the right, so that it’s curved head aims right at Iruka’s prostate. And then Tenzou _pushes_ , mokuton elongating, as he wedges that dildo further in, leaving Iruka _crying_ out at the ceiling, unable to collapse when every part of his body goes weak with pleasure, bright spots appearing around the corners of his vision that he can’t quite blink away. Oh gods, oh gods, he can’t do this. If Tenzou pushes anymore, he can’t take it.

Tenzou pulls back, the dildo retreating only to slam right back up, jerking Iruka with the motion of its sudden thrust.

“ _Hah--!”_ Iruka’s mouth falls open, lower lip trembling.

“Let me know when you’re ready to tell me more of your thoughts, Iruka-sensei,” Tenzou murmurs, the tenor of his voice like velvet, undisturbed, the heat in the syllables curling around Iruka like cigarette smoke, suffocating him, choking him.

Iruka’s cock twitches and oh gods, he doesn’t want to come yet, not yet, not like this, not with a cold dildo—

Tenzou pushes the dildo further, right at Iruka’s prostate before Iruka’s world explodes into a sea of white, his _cry_ reverberating across the house, loud and wanton, tapering off to a breathless gasp that leaves him staring at the ceiling wildly, jaw wide open, legs spread as far as it can go, as he comes and comes, white hot gossamer strands forming a network of webs on his abdomen, hot splatters reaching under his chin and neck from the sheer force of his orgasm.

Iruka _sags_ once he _inhales_ , his arms locked in position keeping him upright, the burn making him shake and tremble, and _oh gods, oh gods_ , he didn’t expect that. It had been too soon. Too quick.

But it’s far from over because the dildo in him _curves_ , making Iruka shudder and _keen_ , a scream tearing past his lips when the dildo expands, stretching him, making his shake as his cock pulses and sputters the last of his orgasm. Tenzou is milking him dry, he’s forcing him to come some more, dragging his orgasm out by making the dildo in him swell. Iruka thinks he’s going to be ripped apart, that he’s going to tear at the seams like this, the burn radiating all the way up his spine.

And suddenly it’s gone, the dildo shrinking back to what it was, pressed firmly against Iruka’s prostate before it pulls back ever so slowly, reduced to a slow steady rhythm, sliding in and out, in and out, gentle, lazy.

Iruka looks up weakly, trying to blink the haze away from his vision and that’s when he sees it.

Tenzou’s grin that is as sharp as a shuriken, cutting, dangerous.

The dildo retracts completely, leaving Iruka empty all of sudden, his ass spasming over nothing. Iruka watches as mokuton sinks to the wooden floor boards, and sprouts out as a another thin but long curved dildo from the floor, sturdy and immovable.

Tenzou tips his chin towards it, and then commands, “Go on. Get on it.” Iruka turns to look at it, wanting a few minutes to just catch his breath. To just manage his bearings, maybe get some blood to flow in his legs that are as heavy as lead at the moment. Just a minute. But then Tenzou says, “Now.”

And Iruka can do nothing but swallow and comply.

  
TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self beta'd.

Iruka thinks he has no reason to be embarrassed. His cheeks shouldn’t be kissed crimson like a fully bloomed red rose. He shouldn’t be directing his gaze away to find a distraction, when if anything, it is Tenzou who should blush. It is Tenzou’s whose cheeks should be searing a lurid rose, for it is he who is dictating the direction of their current perverse and absolute wicked game. Iruka thinks that he shouldn’t feel shame, or any whisper of shyness that makes his shoulders hunch inwards, his upper lip worrying over the bruised and split tiers of his bottom lip, the faint taste of crimson lingering at the tip of his tongue. He shouldn’t even feel shame putting a show for his lover, spreading his trembling legs once more as he adjusts himself on the thin dildo protruding rather mockingly for him to ride.

He shouldn’t be closing his eyes either, as he pushes himself up on his knees, and pick up the offered tube of lube that Tenzou kicks towards him with his heel. Uncaring. Pompous. Possibly even a little cavalier in the gesture. Iruka should not feel shame wash over him like he’s been doused with hot water, his shoulders and every part of him igniting in a humiliated flush at being treated like a plaything, something that makes his heart jackhammer under his chest and excitement curl in the pits of his stomach, peppered with apprehension and the mystery of just what else Tenzou had in store for him.

He brought this upon himself, Iruka knows.

He’s ready for this, whatever this is.

But that doesn’t stop him from shuddering as he coats the smooth dildo with more lube. It doesn’t stop him from moaning rather wantonly, shamelessly, when his cold, slick fingers rub more of the lubricant on his still very sensitive entrance. He looks up and finds Tenzou standing there, his shadow looming over Iruka, his hands resting perfectly still on the armrest, his eyes fixated on Iruka with a hunger that makes Iruka shudder at what it can possibly mean, once Tenzou decides he’s done waiting. That he’s done playing.

The idea of Tenzou unleashing his hunger makes Iruka sigh, as he lifts his ass and carefully sink himself slowly on the dildo protruding from the floor, lowering his thighs to his calves until he is fully kneeling, the cold, slick object buried deep in his body, making him whisper the syllables of Tenzou’s name like it’s a prayer, a blessing, a wish.

“It feels good,” Iruka says, rolling his hips once and then forcing himself to remain still. “But you’ll feel better…”

“I think you’re just fine with what you have,” Tenzou responds, seemingly uncaring, even though his eyelids has lowered just the tiniest fraction, his lips just the littlest bit parted for measured breaths.

“You know I always want you,” Iruka says, rolling his hips again and gritting his teeth when he feels just the tiniest brush against his prostates. It makes his cock twitch in attention, a sign of his eagerness, his own hunger for Tenzou’s cock making him roll his hips again, once, twice, and right there, on the third time, Iruka arches on the floor, his body craning backwards, palms slapping on the wooden floor board to catch himself when slightly angle change has the tip of the dildo brushing on his prostate. He _moans_ Tenzou’s name out, uncaring of how he looks like anymore, because it feels so good. So, so fucking good. His cock twitches once more, his heart drumming faster, faster, blood beginning to thrum in his veins as Iruka pants the ceiling and tries to focus his gaze on the light fixture on their bedroom ceiling.

He’s to sensitive still for further stimulation. He’s too raw from the sudden orgasm earlier.

But it makes Iruka roll his hips forward, his ass lifting off the floor just so and he’s moaning again, his cock spewing traces of cum and pre-cum.

“My statement stands,” Tenzou huffs in amusement.

“Don’t throw words like that at me when I know you want to watch me like this,” Iruka chokes out, swallowing past his dry throat and turning his attention to Tenzou, purposely rolling his hips again. “You want this image of me spread wide for you to be your only company when you go away from who knows how long. You’re gonna lie there in the dark and jack off to the image of me fucking myself on your bloodline.” Tenzou’s pinky finger twitches at that statement and it makes Iruka grin like a wretched thing. “Oh? You like that don’t you?” Iruka rolls his hips again, hissing when the tip brushes his prostate once more. “Me getting fucked by what makes you strong.”

Tenzou doesn’t deem iruka with a response, but he does raise his eyebrow a little bit.

“You better watch, then. Watch me fuck myself on your power, watch me beg for more,” Iruka whispers, lifting himself up higher, straightening his back and freeing his hands. He brings his hands to his chest, smearing cum on his fingers spreading it up in a languid caress, past his collarbone and up the curve of his neck, bringing slick, cum covered fingers to his mouth. He hungrily wraps his lips around his own fingers, sucking and swallowing the ribald flavor hungrily, quenching his thirst with it. Iruka keeps his eyes on Tenzou as he does it and moans at the sigh Tenzou makes.

Tenzou’s lips are set to a thin, serious line, a pinch between his brows now present. The corner of his mouth slowly curls upwards just a fraction, not quite lopsided but not quite flat either. It makes him look so deadly, like he’s ready to slaughter his target before him having figured out their weakness. It makes him look strong.

Confident.

And gods, he’s so fatally handsome like this.

Iruka is powerless under that stare. It is that stare that fuels the heat in his veins. That stare that makes Iruka’s twitch to a half hard state, making his hips rock back and forth as he loses himself in the weight of that stare, riding the thin wooden dildo until his cock juts up hard and ready, bouncing with each thrust of his hips, his balls slapping lewdly, wetly, noisily on the wooden floor.

“Please let me suck you off,” Iruka begs, watching as Tenzou uncrosses his legs and stands, the bulge in his pants clear, a small patch of precum visible. Tenzou is liking what he sees. He’s enjoying himself even when he maintains an iron fist around his own control. Iruka thinks the arousal must hurt now, straining, struggling for some sort of release. “ _Please_.”

Tenzou shoves his hands into his pockets, and hums, crossing the distance between himself and Iruka, coming to stand right in front of Iruka, his bulging crotched position before Iruka’s face.

“Don’t get your filth on me,” Tenzou warns, the words almost cold, lashing out like a command.

A warning that goes straight down Iruka’s spine, making his hips still as he pushes himself higher, raising himself off the dildo for just a moment, just enough for him to deftly wipe his hands clean on his own thighs and ever so carefully, tentatively reach forward for Tenzou’s zipper.

The zipper coming down is loud, cutting through the sound of Iruka’s harsh breaths as he lowers it all the way down. Iruka is careful when he snakes his fingers through the fabric of Tenzou’s boxers, parting the fabric folds and untucking the hard flesh within, freeing it to the cold hair that makes Tenzou’s abdomen contract with a slow intake of breath.

Tenzou’s cock is rock hard, flushed and dark with blood, his balls heavy. The tip gleams with precum, beads of it trickling down the twitching and throbbing length. Iruka parts his lips, pressing the tip of his tongue over a trail of precum, licking it slowly, tracing a hot line all the way up.

Except Tenzou’s hands snaps outwards, wrapping around the length of Iruka’s damp hair. It makes Iruka jerk back with a cry, his eyes darting up in a alarm, tongue retracting back when his teeth clenches in a grimace. Tenzou isn’t kind with grip. He is rough in his handling, something that only makes Iruka _moan_ with need, all the blood suddenly rushing up to his head and making him heady for a few seconds. He has to blink clarity back to his vision, meeting Tenzou’s unimpressed gaze in silent question.

“I didn’t say you can get off it, did I?” Tenzou asks, canting his head to the side, both eyebrows raising up and beyond the rims of his classes.

Oh gods, Tenzou wants Iruka to be on the dildo while he sucks him off. He wants Iruka’s hot spasming around the toy as Iruka works the length of Tenzou’s cock.

The image of that makes Iruka shudder, as he stumbles out an apology at the admonishing he gets, carefully adjusting himself on his knees. He keeps his eyes on Tenzou, his head leaning into the grip Tenzou has on his hair, as he carefully, and slowly positions himself on the tip and begins to lower himself until he is fully kneeling, moaning softly as his ass is once again filled.

“Open your mouth,” Tenzou commands, something that Iruka does immediately, his jaw slacking open, tongue pressing downwards to prepare to receive the thick, throbbing flesh into his mouth.

Except Tenzou doesn’t give him any warning when he navigates Iruka’s mouth himself with his hands, pushing his cock into the caverns of Iruka’s mouth without much of warning save for the command to open it. Iruka has to blink when his jaw is suddenly stretched as wide as it can go, has to remember not to grab on to Tenzou lest he gets his cum smothered fingers all over his suit.

Don’t get your filth on me, Tenzou had said.

Don’t touch me, you filthy whore, Iruka hears.

Iruka breathes heavily through his nose, whimpering around the flesh in his mouth, his fingers twitching and shaking as he grips at his knees in a bruising hold, the ache of bone being held on to so tightly making a tremble radiate through out the folded length of his legs. Iruka groans around the flesh, trying not to fight Tenzou’s grip, forcing himself to go still and not just wrench his head and hair free from that hold.

Except the heel of Tenzou’s dress shoes comes forward, with Tenzou resting all of his weight on his left leg. He hooks the back of his foot on the small of Iruka’s back and _jerks_ him forward, forcibly changing the angle of Iruka’s hips and right there, Iruka’s world explodes into a sea of white.

He _cries_ around the cock that refuses to retract from his mouth.

His pleasured scream is choked by the swollen head of Tenzou’s cock.

Like this, his hips is angled in a way that makes the tip of the dildo brush against his prostate. Iruka’s cock twitches, a steady stream of pre-cum trickling down thick, hard length, as his hands shoots up for purchase on the back of Tenzou’s thighs, smearing precum down the length of the pristine black fabric.

“Take your hands off me,” Tenzou _orders_ , and Iruka burns with it, his hands yanking backwards as they lay uselessly on the ground. “Stay there,” Tenzou reminds him, ordering him to not move a centimeter from the angle Tenzou’s heel has forced Iruka to be in. Tenzou retracts his foot, returning it to the floor. “Now, suck. You asked for this, didn’t you?”

Iruka _moans_ , involuntary tears from the pressure trickling down his cheeks, saliva and precum dribbling down a hot mess over his chin and down the length of his chest, mixing with Iruka’s own cum. Gods, he’s a mess, he’s a fucking hot mess and Iruka is loving every minute of being Tenzou’s dirty, little play thing.

He tries to focus past the shudders that wracks his body, tries to get his bearings when his nerves are on fire, blanketing Iruka in a haze of pleasure that leaves him trembling, gag reflex adjusting around the head of Tenzou’s cock.

But he takes too long to adjust. He’s too slow for Tenzou’s order.

Because all Iruka hears is the put upon sigh that leaves Tenzou’s lips, the unimpressed click of his tongue before he is yanking Iruka’s head back himself, forcing the length of his cock to retract fully from Iruka’s lips, the tip of his flesh smearing precum over the tiers of Iruka’s bruised lips before he pushes himself into the caverns of Iruka’s wanting and begging mouth.

He does it again, and again, Iruka’s _cries_ muffled and silenced by flesh as his own hands balls into tight fists, having nothing to hold onto.

Tenzou _fucks_ Iruka’s mouth. He fucks him like he’s worthless. A dirty whore. Tenzou fucks him while Iruka’s brain tries to process the pleasure and heat around his mouth while his prostate is being stimulated by the dildo, leaving him shaking and flushed, trails of saliva and precum dripping to the floor as Tenzou uses his mouth for nothing else other than his pleasure.

Iruka watches as Tenzou looks down at him, sees hisown reflected reflecting over the glimmer of the slightly fogged lenses of Tenzou’s glasses. Tenzou is flushed, the heat raking down the neckline of his t-shirt, his suit still immaculate and unrumpled and gods, he’s so beauitiful, a god standing and looming over Iruka, worthy of being worshiped, when Iruka is just an existence to pleasure him. Nothing but a vessel for his pleasure.

Iruka shudders, shaking his head because he doesn’t want to come, not yet, please no, not yet, not again.

But Tenzou cares little for him at this point and the command comes out, hot and harsh, “Roll your hips.” Tenzou cranes his neck back, Adam’s apple bobbing as Iruka _whimpers_ around his gag reflex, choking as Tenzou’s cock pistons in and out of his mouth, his head remaining a prisoner in Tenzou’s grip. “ _Now.”_

Iruka obeys.

He obeys and rolls his hips once, twice and he comes.

He comes with a cry around the pistoning flesh in his mouth, Tenzou not at all stopping in his brutal pace as cum erupts from Iruka’s cock, smattering all over his abdomen and floor, smearing white and blinding Iruka as he stares up unseeingly, Tenzou’s balls slapping against his chin lewdly, his jaw hanging open bawdily and accepting. Welcoming. Always, always welcoming.

Tenzou doesn’t come however and without much of warning he releases his grip on Iruka’s head, leaving Iruka to sway for balance, his hand coming to _grip_ Iruka’s shoulder, pushing him down further on the dildo, leaving Iruka to shake at the sheer force of the prolonged pleasure, cum still dripping out of his cock.

And then Tenzou is releasing Iruka, his free hand fusing with the floor.

The dildo on the ground retracts, leaving Iruka suddenly empty falling to his side, only to be caught and held up when vines wrap around Iruka’s wrists and ankles, lifting him off the ground and suspending him all fours, legs spread, arms locked in position. The mess on Iruka’s chest start to pool downwards, gossamer sticky strands being pulled down by gravity as Iruka stares at the floor and tries to catch his breath. Tenzou has him angled and facing the mirror of their dresser. Like this, Iruka feels shame as he stares at his reflection, his softening cock and balls dangling in the air, helpless.

Oh gods, he’s hanging.

Oh gods Tenzou has him in the air, spread, his ass exposed and he can’t move.

Iruka weakly tries to shake himself free from the mokuton binds, and finds that he is nothing but a prisoner.

“I should leave you like this. Give you time to think,” Tenzou says, staring at his handiwork, walking around Iruka like he’s a museum exhibit, a piece of art to be admired. The wooden vines are carved with arabesque patterns, beautiful, peppered with hibiscus and lavender, a silent love language worthy of Tenzou’s devotion to Iruka’s beauty. Even now, like this, in the middle of their game, Tenzou never ceases to surround Iruka with beautiful things. It softens something in Iruka’s chest, noticing those details, only to shiver when he is lowered just a little bit, his ass positioned right over the head of Tenzou’s cock.

“No, no, please,” Iruka says, shaking his head, his hair swaying in the air. “Don’t leave me like this.”

“You came twice. You can use a little time to think,” Tenzou says, seating himself on the edge of the bed.

“I want to be fucked by you,” Iruka murmurs, heat igniting over the curves of his cheeks again. “I want you to fuck me long and hard. So hard that I’ll feel you and only you for the remainder of the week. I want you to use me. Use me as much as you can. I want it to burn with every move I make, I want to remember nothing but your cock in me while I teach, while I serve people at the mission desk. I want to remember you until you come back—“ Iruka _moans_ , biting his lower lip as his mouth lets lose of what his body wants. The resonating slap of Tenzou’s palm on the curve of Iruka’s ass tears a _cry_ out of Iruka’s mouth, the sting leaving him hissing and trembling. “Again! Yes, yes—again!”

Tenzou’s palm comes down, once. Twice. Thrice. Each slap gets punctuated by Iruka’s cry, resonating clap on flesh ending with Iruka’s cries for more. Tenzou’s palm is merciless, cruel, harsh on the globes of Iruka’s ass, leaving scalding red marks that would burn for _days_ , hopefully beyond a week if Iruka’s lucky.

The assault leaves Iruka trembling and much to his humiliation, as seconds ticks to longer minutes, he finds himself semi-hard and wanting more again.

“You are utterly shameless,” Tenzou clicks his tongue, reaching up and making a show on the mirror in folding the sleeves of his suit, all the way up to mid forearm, the fabric straining around muscle. Iruka thinks it’s the sexiest thing he has ever seen. He thinks that Tenzou preparing himself to fuck his body is the single most attractive thing anyone can feast their gaze upon, a complete balm for sore eyes.

Iruka is panting, breathless, his jaw slack as a trickle of drool slides down the corner of his mouth.

“For you,” he admits. “I am yours to do as you please. Make me your whore, your plaything, I don’t care. I just want _you_.”

“Way to boosy a guy’s ego, Iruka,” Tenzou chuckles, his hands gently brushing over the curve of Iruka’s ass cheeks, over the reddened and heated skin. “I guess I can indulge you, then, seeing as you’ve been quite forthcoming. Quite honest, even.”

Iruka whimpers with anticipation, only to cry out with partial pleasure, partial disappointment when what splits him wide open isn’t Tenzou’s thick cock but a mokuton vine. He cries with abandone, shaking in his confines, no, no, please not that, I want you, I want you. It falls past his lips garbled, incomprehensive, trailing off to a _scream_ that reverberates through out their entire apartment when the tip of the vine pushes past the ring of muscle, angling and brushing against Iruka’s prostate just _so_. It leaves Iruka a shaking, hot, dripping mess, suspended in the air, the sight he makes making Iruka whimper and turn his head away in shame.

Something that Tenzou doesn’t want because Iruka’s binds adjusts again, lowering his feet to the ground, pressing the balls of his heels on the cold, sticky, cum and saliva stained floor, holding him prisoner, his hands lower to his sides as Tenzou reaches up from behind, his palm firmly gripping Iruka by the chin, _yanking_ his lower jaw open and forcing Iruka to stare at himself in the mirror.

“This is the Academy’s principal,” Tenzou points out, uncaring that his grip is bruising, uncaring that it mars Iruka’s face, pinchin skin and flesh. “Look at yourself. _Look_!” The command comes out.

Iruka looks and shivers.

He is a mess. His hair hangs like strips of leathers down his face, cascading down his shoulders, the ends sticking to the cum and saliva on his chest. Iruka is flushed, his skin fevered, his chest scarred in white webs of cum that trickles down. Gods, he looks like a cheap street whore, nothing but a vessel for men like Tenzou to push their cocks into, to please themselves, to take their pleasure as they repay Iruka with hot, hardened flesh.

Tenzou’s fingers worms their way past Iruka’s lips, pushing into his mouth, saliva dribbling down the corners of Iruka’s lips as ever so slowly, Tenzou’s cock starts to push into his ass. Iruka _cries_ with relief, his voice hoarse and wanton, choked by Tenzou’s fingers as the searing hot flesh rips him open. Oh gods, Tenzou is huge. He’s so big, and hot, and full, his cock twitching and nothing at all like the mokuton vine or the previous two dildos.

Iruka cannot stop his eyes from rolling backwards, as he pants around the thick flesh splitting him apart, forcing his body to relax around the length of his lover until the brush of cool silk-wool fabric touches the back of Iruka’s thighs.

Tenzou rolls his hips forward once, one hand coming down to rest on Iruka’s hip, arching it, angling it the way Tenzou knows, has known for years. He holds Iruka prisoner in his palm, as Iruka’s fingers braces themselves on the bonds around his wrists, knuckles bone white, ready to be used, gods, _oh gods_.

“You filthy,” Tenzou hisses, his lips right at Iruka’s ear, hot and humid, his breath making Iruka shudder as Tenzou _rolls_ his hips forward, pushing his cock further in and to the hilt. “little,” Tenzou _breathes_ , pulls back, “ _whore_.”

Tenzou thrusts forward and Iruka shouts until his voice tapers off to a hoarse cry, Tenzou’s name spilling from his lips in broken syllables.

Tenzou fucks him, his pace brutal and deep, pushing his cock into Iruka’s body, as far as it can go, each thrust brushing against Iruka’s prostate. Iruka jerks with each thrust, a cry punctuating it that leaves him sliding his eyes shut helplessly, his chin tipped upwards as Tenzou’s fingers remains in his mouth, pushing against the side of it, forcibly keeping Iruka’s jaw open as their bodies rock and slap each other in a lurid, unforgiving pace.

“Tenzou—Tenzou—Tenzou—“ Iruka garbles, unable to control himself, his hands straining in its grip on the mokuton binds that keeps him upright.

Tenzou pulls his fingers back, leaving Iruka empty mouthed for a few seconds before he turns Iruka’s head and slants their mouths together, kissing Iruka deeply, pushing his tongue into Iruka’s mouth as he continues to fuck him. Tenzou steals all of Iruka’s breath, the hand on Iruka’s hip coming up to wrap around the side of Iruka’s neck, while wet saliva slicked fingers moves to grab Iruka’s other hip, maintaining that angle that peppers Iruka’s vision with black spots. The hand on Iruka’s neck _squeezes_ , bruising in its grip. It’ll leave shadows on Iruka’s skin for sure.

Iruka can’t handle it anymore, he’s going to come again when he doesn’t want to. Not yet. He wants to prolong this. Wants Tenzou’s cock to be in his body for as long as possible. He doesn’t want to be separated from Tenzou’s cock, not yet, gods, no not yet.

Except Tenzou pulls back with grunt, leaving Iruka to sag as the mokuton binds on his ankles and wrists retracts. Iruka topples to the ground like a house cards, caught and kept upright by Tenzou’s forearm. Tenzou to jerks him up and forward, pressing Iruka’s chest flush against Tenzou.

Tenzou who takes several steps back, seating himself on the armchair and bodily picking up Iruka to force him to straddle Tenzou’s lap. Tenzou who lifts Iruka without effort, like he’s weightless, who sheaths his cock right into Iruka’s ass once more, leaving Iruka crying at the ceiling as his hands fists on the arm rest, knuckles bone white, his palms _hurting,_ burning in its grip as Tenzou proceeds to fuck Iruka’s body while seated like a king.

Iruka stares at his lovers face in a daze, watches how Tenzou watches him, his lips parted, breath coming out of his handsome face in short, strangled and still somewhat quiet exhales, his teeth gritting, jawline pulled taut. Iruka’s trembling fingers reaches up to push the glasses back in place, as he bounces over Tenzou’s cock, pushing it over the bridge of Tenzou’s nose and brushing back the fall of his hair off his forehead, slicking it back and gods, _gods_ , he looks so handsome.

“You’re so hot,” Iruka breathes, unable to help himself, whimpering when Tenzou starts to slam Iruka’s hips down faster, harder. “Oh gods, Tenzou, you’re so, _so fucking hot—“_

Tenzou surges forward, uncaring that cum and saliva and sweat smears the front of his suit, sealing their mouths together. Iruka’s arms wrap around his neck, his fingers tangling in his hair as Tenzou delves into Iruka’s mouth, kissing deeply, their tongues brushing, wet, slick, saliva trickling down their chins, Iruka’s hips pistoning up and down, rocking against the length of Tenzou’s cock, _oh gods, oh gods, oh gods—_

Iruka comes with a ferocity that leaves him blinded, crying out against Tenzou’s gritting teeth. He stares unseeingly at the ceiling, as heat _slams_ him and Tenzou comes with a _hiss_ , so, so loud in the quiet of their room, the slap of flesh ceasing as their world lulls to a complete standstill, the crest of their pleasure reaching its apex, their orgasm blinding them.

Iruka doesn’t know how long he remains arched like that, his body as tight as cocked bowstring until he’s sagging sideways. Sagging right into the circle to Tenzou’s arms, his mouth captured by Tenzou into a long, searing kiss.

“Gods I love you,” Tenzou murmurs in between his kisses, pressing their forehead together.

Iruka can only smile, as he closes his eyes and finally gives in the dark circles that clouds that rest of his vision.

*

Iruka wakes up in bed, cleaned up and tucked against Tenzou’s bare chest.

He wakes up and catches sight of the suit hanging on a hanger by the closet. Tenzou is reading a book, the nightstand lamp on, glasses on his nose and piercing still gleaming under the reading light.

Iruka has to remember to breathe.

“How do you feel?” Tenzou asks, his fingers brushing over the curve of Iruka’s shoulders gently.

“ _Good_ ,” Iruka murmurs, sighing and stretching carefully, every bit of him hurting in the very best way possible. “So, _so_ good. Glasses suit you. You should keep it. For me…”

Tenzou turns to look at Iruka, looking down from the rim of his glasses. “I figured you’d say that,” he grins, wide and roguishly handsome. Iruka's breath is momentarily taken away.

“Keep the earring too.” Iruka closes his eyes, pillowing his head back on Tenzou’s chest. “For me.”

Tenzou leans over, pressing his lips to Iruka’s temple and murmurs, “Always for you…”

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMFG I AM FINISHED OMFGGGGGG I CANNOT WITH THESE TWO ANYMORE.
> 
> UGH PUT YOUR HANDS UP IF YOU THINK THEY ARE THE SEXIEST COUPLE! AYYYY!!!

**Author's Note:**

> I had to cut it. It's too fucking long WTF. I no longer know who Tenzou is. Nope. Not at all. 
> 
> Hate it? Love it? Let me know! Isn't Tenzou sexy in a suit?


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